


deep in my soul

by timelessidyll



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, brief mentions of violence, lots of self-hatred, ooooo lots of angst, self-projection? perhaps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelessidyll/pseuds/timelessidyll
Summary: in the end, it all comes back to hongjoong, and sometimes he wishes he would end up anywhere else.other times, he wouldn't dream of being anywhere else.other times, he resents everything he is and everything he has become.in the end, he stays.





	deep in my soul

**Author's Note:**

> this has basically forced me to stop writing everything else djfshjd but i HAD to write it. i hope y'all enjoy a kinda late v-day gift!  
> this is also entirely unedited so ;;;;;
> 
>  
> 
> [my twitter!](https://twitter.com/timelessidyll)  
> [my curiouscat!](https://curiouscat.me/timelessidyll)

The room falls quiet when they walk in, as if by holding their breaths the people can freeze time and let the presence of the newcomers sink in. Pindrop silence, as Wooyoung would so eloquently put it. It sets Seonghwa on edge.

 

He doesn’t need to see Hongjoong’s face to know it’s blank and tight, eyes hard and unforgiving and scanning the crowd once, twice, thrice. He doesn’t need to because he can tell from his shoulders, the way his muscles subtly bunch and the way his hands twitch with the urge to clench into fists.

 

He wishes he could reach out a hand to touch him, ease the tension building in him, wishes that the black leather covering every inch of him and the mask on his face didn’t make him look like a monster ready to do Hongjoong’s every bidding.

 

He sets his shoulders more severely, tilts his chin up to seem even taller, ignores the black strands of hair falling into his eyes, and throws every thought out of his head. The only thing he needs to be aware of is the bond that thrums between him and Hongjoong, the way it beats with the rhythm of their hearts, and the energy encasing him.

 

* * *

 

The first time Seonghwa felt fear was when Hongjoong almost died. In retrospect, Hongjoong always tells him that no harm would have come to him, definitely not from simply falling into the ocean. But at the time, when he was hanging off a cliff by the raw tips of his fingers, Seonghwa couldn’t have been less convinced. Every pained grunt from Hongjoong as he struggled to keep his grip was another pull at his heart. Another pull at the bond that held them together and that was threatening to send Seonghwa over the edge after him.

 

It was the first time he shifted without meaning to, the first time he shifted in the presence of someone else. It was the first time he killed someone in his dragon form. It was the first time Hongjoong looked at him with an inkling of fear. 

Even when they were safe, when Seonghwa was more human despite the scales that still littered his arms and back, and Hongjoong was hugging him like a lifeline, he didn’t forget. It was hard to forget when the metallic taste of blood lingered in the crevices of his mouth and the sensation of stretchy, tough flesh refused to leave his memory.

 

It was the first time for a lot of things. It was the first time he felt like a monster.

 

* * *

 

Beyond the awed stares, Seonghwa sees the hatred. Those who resent him and Hongjoong for the very fact that they are one of the only two Dragons Guards left. They think that the two of them don’t deserve the fame they receive, and Seonghwa agrees with them. He doesn’t think that they deserve fame for doing what has been tasked of them. He doesn’t think he deserves fame for what he’s done.

 

The seats of the Council are arranged in a semi-circle, fifteen seats for each of the most imposing members in the country. Seonghwa always thought their job and power was glorified. The faces that stare back at him are soft, weak, and he catches himself wandering down the wrong path in his mind again when he thinks it would be so easy to snap their necks. The only one who he respects, if only for his authority and not his actions, is Counsel Seunghyun. He straightens his back only slightly, tries to pass off as the intimidating killer they think he is.

 

“Council,” Hongjoong greets tersely, bowing slightly. Seonghwa continues to stand stiffly, and he doesn’t miss the barely-masked looks of contempt he receives from the other counsels. His lips pull into a snarl underneath his mask. “You called for us.”

 

“We did,” Counsel Seunghyun says, leaning forward to steeple his fingers. Even the simple gesture grates on Seonghwa’s nerves, but he feels slightly guilty when Hongjoong tenses further. His irritation must have bled through their bond. “There’s been an issue with centaurs on the northern border. The local militia has asked for help, but the centaurs are too vicious for our army. They would shred us to pieces.”

 

Seonghwa wants to spit back the logic that if 7,000 men aren’t enough to handle centaurs, then a dragon and his rider didn’t stand a chance. He feels the warning Hongjoong sends through the bond and bites his tongue.

 

“How many will we have to deal with?” Hongjoong asks, clenching his fists behind his back.

 

“From witness estimates, about 30.”

 

Now, Seonghwa isn’t able to keep his mouth in check. “Counsel Seunghyun, with all due respect,” he sneers, the words muffled behind the mask, “how are we expected to take care of a small army of centaurs?”

 

A man to the left of Counsel Seunghyun, Counsel Joohyuk, curls his lips as if he’s smelling something particularly rancid and responds testily. “It shouldn’t be a problem for you, should it?” The brittle tone is more than enough of a hint, but Seonghwa has never backed down from an indirect challenge from the Council.

 

“Why shouldn’t it be, Counsel? Is it because we’re Fate?” The name given to them by the country tastes sour on his tongue and Hongjoong is sending him even more intense warning signals through their bond, but he forges ahead. “Or is it because you think we’re far too tainted with your dirty work to care about one more splash of blood on our hands?” Counsel Joohyuk’s face is red, probably from as much embarrassment as rage, and Hongjoong subtly sighs.

 

Seonghwa hopes he can feel that he doesn’t regret anything he said.

 

* * *

 

The first time Seonghwa felt heartbreak was when he wasn’t even aware he had feelings for Hongjoong. But there was no denying the drop in his mood and the sudden tension in his body when he walked in on Mingi hovering over and kissing Hongjoong. There was no denying that there was a sudden, ugly head of possession that tried to rear up inside of him, and if his hands flexed in a ghost memory of his claws, no one had to know.

 

He knew Mingi wouldn’t hurt Hongjoong. They were childhood friends, he reminded himself bitterly. Almost immediately after he’d walked in and noticed the scene, he had slipped back out and walked far enough away that he couldn’t hear his rider and Mingi. His back thudded lightly against the wall as he tried to organize his emotions, tried to place them in neat boxes and pack them away to never be touched again.

 

He didn’t quite understand himself. Hongjoong is his rider, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have other friends, and it didn’t mean Seonghwa had to be the center of his attention. But he thought back to how Hongjoong acted with Mingi, open and affectionate, and then thought about he acted around Seonghwa himself, reserved and cold, and there was a churning in his stomach that felt vaguely like nausea. He needed to leave, he thought wildly, needed to free himself from the clutches of those disgusting feelings and go back to how he was before. He snatched his mask off of the table as he blew through the living room, not pausing to address the questions that had suddenly come from the room Hongjoong and Mingi were in. He had to ignore his thoughts, the ones that were too human for him to handle. Only the sky could help him.

 

He made sure to run to an empty clearing far from their shared home to throw Hongjoong off his trail before he shifted. There was no illusion in his mind that Hongjoong wouldn’t realize it was him, but at the very least, he wouldn’t have to face him. The shift preserved his human and dragon forms perfectly, down to the injuries of yesterday lacing his arms and legs, and he growled at the stiff stretching of the skin between his wings as he unfurled them. But the cliff face he stood in front of was tall enough for his wings to catch on the air about halfway down, and after that, he hardly noticed the stress in his shoulders.

 

The sun had long since set when Seonghwa set back down on the earth. The night had long since left him invisible in the dark, but the candles in their house were lit in every room and Seonghwa resigned himself to Hongjoong’s interrogation.

 

“What took you so long to come back?” is the first thing he said, but Seonghwa didn’t answer. He set his mask back down on the table and took off the jacket he always wore, but for once, he kept his gloves on. Hongjoong noticed, always caught the small details. “You never keep your gloves on.”

 

“I didn’t use to,” Seonghwa said shortly. “I think it’s time for a change, don’t you?” It’s rhetorical in all the sense that he didn’t care what Hongjoong’s answer or lack of was. “Why did you stay up?”

 

“Answer me first.”

 

“I was flying,” he said, falling into a chair haphazardly. His shoulder ached from the ghosting pains of his wings, but the burn is a blessing. It occupied his thoughts. He couldn’t look at Hongjoong.

 

“Flying for seven hours,” Hongjoong confirmed tersely, boring holes into Seonghwa. He clenched his jaw and felt his teeth grind, which was a jarring change from the way the sharper teeth of his dragon form fit together. He couldn’t snarl with these either, and he settled for glaring at the table.

 

“Yeah. Why did you stay up.”

 

“Am I not allowed to be worried?” Seonghwa finally lifted his head, leveling Hongjoong with his glare. The fact that his lips still had the lasting rawness from hours earlier irritated him endlessly, but he kept that away from their bond.

 

“You shouldn’t be,” he said curtly, standing up abruptly so that he towered over Hongjoong. It felt cheap to use his height as an intimidation tactic, but rational thinking was the farthest thing from his mind. “You have bigger issues.”

 

“And what, might I ask, is a bigger issue than my dragon deciding to disappear for hours on end?” It only took a moment for his expression to shutter and for his face to go blank, save for the hardness of his eyes, and he saw the sudden regret on Hongjoong’s face that came with it. “Shit, wait, that’s not what I–”

 

“–Of course that’s why you’re worried,” he said icily. “What use is a rider without his dragon, huh? Don’t worry your pretty little head, Hongjoong. I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to.” He hadn’t meant to bring their bond into the conversation, but even though he felt a little guilty, the hurt that appeared in the pinch of Hongjoong’s eyebrows made him feel strangely accomplished. He immediately hated himself for it. Hongjoong didn’t seem to know what to say, and after only a few more seconds, Seonghwa decided that this was enough. He picked up his jacket again and put it on.

 

“I’m going to stay with Wooyoung and San. Don’t wait for me. You can get Mingi to keep you company. I’m sure you prefer him anyway.” He didn’t care how petty he sounded. Right now, he needed to be as far away from Hongjoong as possible for as long as possible. If that meant keeping his distance forever, then so be it.

 

* * *

 

“Is it that hard to keep yourself in check around them?” Hongjoong asks with only a hint of exhaustion. He’s too accustomed to Seonghwa’s antics to truly be angry at him.

 

He snorts. “Of course it is. They’re weak leaders who haven’t earned their positions and still have the audacity to send us on suicide missions.”

 

“It’ll go without a hitch,” Hongjoong assures him, steering them into a side hall to avoid the crowd at the front of the building. They’ve been told to arrive at the northern border the day after tomorrow, at the latest, so they would need every minute of preparation today before they could begin the long flight.

 

Seonghwa sighs and loops an arm around Hongjoong’s shoulders, leaning heavily on him and causing the shorter to indignantly squawk that he is not Seonghwa’s “personal armrest.” The mundanity of it all makes him want to giggle uncontrollably, but he’d probably scare Hongjoong that way, so he does nothing more than press a quick kiss to his hair before letting go. He pretends to not see the aggressive blush on Hongjoong’s face.

 

“I can’t wait.”

 

* * *

 

The first time Seonghwa felt bone-tired in a way he couldn’t quite explain, it was after they’d been called to the southern tip. The salty breeze and relentless ocean waves had left him drained beyond his own comprehension, and he didn’t have it in him to hold his tongue. The ride back to their house was silent, and the moment he landed and Hongjoong was off his back, he crumpled to the ground and pressed his masked face into the grass. He didn’t have the energy to get up, but at the same time, he knew better than to lay there and risk falling asleep outside. The cloud cover they’d flown through threatened heavy rains.

 

“Come on, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong called from the porch of their house, already standing with the door held open. A rumble of thunder sounded from above, and Seonghwa didn’t so much as flinch when the first pelting drops of rain fell on him. It stung in a way he relished, craving to feel something beyond the emptiness in him at that moment.

 

He could slip away now, he thought morbidly. He could give up his human form without a struggle and return to the swirling energy of the universe. He could ease his own suffering and never feel so hollow again, and it would be relaxing and calm in a way he hadn’t experienced since Hongjoong had taken his hands at the moment of his creation.

 

When he thought back to it, that was when he took the first step into love. First came trust. And he trusted Hongjoong to the ends of the Earth.

 

Did he still trust him?

 

He pushed himself off the ground abruptly, biting his lip and breaking through the thin human skin. How dare he question his own loyalty. How dare he try to take the easy way out. There had only been one person he’d ever tried to make himself into anything for, and he was willing to forsake him for the baseless fears in his head. The rain continued to hammer him and slick down his jacket, and he brushed past Hongjoong on his way through the door.

 

“Don’t just stand there,” he grunted, taking his outerwear off and grimacing at the wound on his left arm and the mess his wet clothes were making. “You’re gonna let the heat out.” Hongjoong’s lips curled into a wry smile, but he shut the door wordlessly behind them.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe it worked,” Seonghwa breaths out, staring at the back of the retreating funeral procession in awe. He thought it would be harder to fool the nation into believing Fate had died in a tragic, heroic battle fighting the imaginary centaurs, but if this is all it took, he’ll have to pass the word on to San.

 

“I told you they’d fall for it,” Hongjoong snorts beside him, an arm thrown haphazardly around his waist to use as a stabilizer. The tree they’re sitting in is relatively stable, but he isn’t complaining. Hongjoong is warmer than him, always, and it’s nice to feel close to him. He leans a little more into his hold. “The Council aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the box.” He turns to look at him then, eyes filled with mirth. “How about we go into town and scare Yeosang?”

 

He means to say “yes,” because Yeosang is easily startled, which he figured out within days of staying in his little town near the northeastern corner of the country, but what comes out instead is, “I could kiss you right now.” Which, Seonghwa admits, isn’t a lie, but he also isn’t sure he wants to be so direct in their new, shaky relationship. Hongjoong’s face only eases into a softer expression, however, and he bites his lower lip.

 

“Well, maybe you should,” he says cheekily, and Seonghwa restrains the giggle that threatens to shake him off the branch and out of the tree.

 

* * *

 

The first time Seonghwa felt insignificant was after he fought with Hongjoong. His memory didn’t recall what had started it, but Seonghwa remembered hot rage followed by cool deprecation. He didn’t remember what had started it, but he remembered too well how it ended.

 

Dragon memories were a pain sometimes.

 

“Damn it, Hongjoong, drop it,” he growled. “It’s not your business.”

 

“I think it’s my business when you start acting so strange and distant that it ruins our bond,” Hongjoong snapped back with equal anger.

 

“It doesn’t matter! Our relationship is strictly business. We save the nation whenever the Council needs us to and then we’re done!” It was bile on his tongue as he said it out loud, but now that he’d started, Seonghwa couldn’t stop. “I can’t even remember the last time we’ve spoken beyond asking each other what we wanted for dinner, and over half the time, I’m eating alone because you decided to stay the night with Mingi!” He forged on over Hongjoong’s attempts to say something. “Don’t say shit, Hongjoong. I dare you to tell me the last time we shared a real conversation.”

 

Hongjoong’s mouth opened to answer, but no sound came out. If it was possible to feel even more devastated, that was what Seonghwa felt.

 

“Somewhere along the line, you stopped caring about me,” he whispered, refusing to let the broken shards of his trust pierce through his tone. “I realized a long time ago. I guess you didn’t notice until recently.” He turned away from Hongjoong and stiffly picked up his mask, slipping the leather around the back of his ears and allowing the cold chains to press against the side of his face where they connected to the mask. “I’m going. Don’t wait up for me.” ‘You probably won’t be here anyway,’ he thought darkly.

 

Hongjoong didn’t say anything as he walked out. He wasn’t sure what hurt most: the silence or the immobility.

 

It was the next day by the time Seonghwa decided that he had to go back. He still owed San a vow, and if he disappeared in the forest forever, he would never be able to fulfill it. The sun was rising on the horizon, the animals of the forest were beginning to awake. It was such a sharp contrast to the tumultuous ocean Seonghwa felt in him.

 

The lights of their house weren’t on, so he didn’t have any expectations. Hongjoong had probably gone to Mingi’s house.

 

Mingi was better for Hongjoong than he could ever be.

 

The door was locked, so Seonghwa slipped the spare out from its hidden compartment under the window sill and used it to open the door. The house was empty. He wasn’t particularly surprised by that.

 

Not a minute later he discovered that no, the house wasn’t empty. Hongjoong and Mingi were in the living room, focused deeply enough on their conversation that they hadn’t noticed Seonghwa come inside. He debated whether or not he should leave, since on one very appealing hand he’d rather not see Mingi around Hongjoong and be aggressively reminded of their argument.

 

“I’m sorry,” he heard Hongjoong whisper, and he furrowed his eyebrows. The not so appealing hand of staying to listen was starting to earn its merit.

 

“I’m sorry too,” Mingi’s deeper voice said, and Seonghwa felt even more confused. “You really do mean so much to me, Hongjoong, but I don’t think this is what we should be doing with our relationship.”

 

“You’re only saying that because I brought it up first,” Hongjoong said again, sounding more than a little guilty and miserable. “I’m your childhood friend and the one breaking up with you, of course you would try to not hurt my feelings.” Breaking up? Seonghwa continued to stand in the hall, listening for the rest of the conversation.

 

“If I’m completely honest, Joongie, I didn’t think we were going to work out anyway,” Mingi admitted, more quietly than before. “Whenever you had to run a campaign for the council, I would be worried sick about whether you’d come back alive. I was always glad when you did return, but it was stressful. I think it’s better like this. As friends.”

 

He took that as his cue to slip outside again, as silently as he had come in, and reenter, announcing his arrival with the purposeful opening of the door and loud rustle of clothes as he took off his jacket. The conversation died behind him, and Seonghwa stiffened when he heard footsteps coming toward the front door. Mingi walked around him to get his jacket from the hook, making sure to avoid touching him. It was almost laughable, if Seonghwa had been in any mood to do so.

 

“It’s a surprise to see you here, Mingi,” he said instead, sliding his eyes toward the man and watching how he seemed to suddenly find the door hinges very engaging. “Hongjoong always went to you. He never did deign to bring me.” Mingi’s eyes narrowed and finally settled on Seonghwa, who found himself trying hard to not let the sneer show on his face. Disarmingly, he smiled suddenly. “I’m glad I got to meet you at least once. Please take good care of Hongjoong.” The sudden frown on the other’s face told him that Mingi thought he was already aware of their breakup.

 

“Seonghwa,” he heard from behind him, and Seonghwa struggled to keep the smile from slipping off his face when he turned to look at him. Hongjoong’s eyes examined him tiredly, and for a moment, Seonghwa felt guilty. He was doing that a lot – regretting ever meeting Hongjoong and causing him so much pain. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that it was his fault.

 

“We need to talk,” brought him back to reality, and this time the smile did slip as he stared at Hongjoong blankly. Mingi cleared his throat and nodded at both of them before leaving them alone. The door closed with finality, and Seonghwa wondered if Hongjoong and Mingi would ever be the same again.

 

“What’s there to talk about?” he asked instead, tilting his head.

 

“Just come and sit down, Seonghwa.” He did as much, his eyes on Hongjoong as he sat in the same chair as before and brought his knees up to his chest. In that moment, his partner looked too small for his position and figure. They were silent for a while as Hongjoong gathered himself.

 

“You’re not as sneaky as you think.” Seonghwa grimaced. “But I think I’m kind of glad you overheard us. I didn’t know how I would tell you.”

 

“I almost didn’t come back,” he admitted, biting his lower lip. He couldn’t look at the confusion on Hongjoong’s face. “I wondered if it would be better for me to just disappear or return to the forest, but.” He looked up. “That wouldn’t have been fair to you.” Hongjoong’s expression had turned guarded, but Seonghwa supposed he deserved that.

 

“I wasn’t fair to you either,” he mumbled, glancing back down at his legs. “I didn’t realize how much I’d been ignoring you for Mingi. You’re right for being upset because I was too stupid to realize how I’d been ignoring my partner for someone else. Which isn’t to say Mingi is just anybody else, but you’re more permanent than him. Hell, we have a blood oath keeping us together.” His laugh was dry and hollow.

 

“There was another reason, you know.” This time, Seonghwa was quieter, tiptoeing on invisible eggshells around their emotions. “Why I got so upset.”

 

“I know.” Hongjoong’s voice was apologetic and guilty as his eyes. “It managed to float through our bond every now and then.” Seonghwa’s eyes sharpened.

 

“If that was one of the reasons you broke up with Mingi, I’ll rip you a new one, Hongjoong.”

 

Hongjoong didn’t flinch back from his hissed threat, but his eyes changed. “It wasn’t, but it made me question it. I didn’t know if Mingi and I would ever be able to truly work out anyway, so maybe it was for the best that you yelled at me. I wouldn’t have done anything about it otherwise.”

 

He let it soak in, mulling over his words and turning them over in his head, but eventually, he stood up and brushed imaginary dust off his pants. “So where do we go from here?”

 

“Maybe we should try again. Not with a clean slate, but with a new promise.” Hongjoong smiled tentatively, silently asking for approval.

 

“As long as the promise includes you actually picking up after yourself,” Seonghwa tried to joke, wrinkling his nose for comical effect. It managed to pull a strangled laugh out of Hongjoong, who finally uncurled his legs and stretched them.

 

“I think I can agree to that.” As Seonghwa turned to walk back down the hall to his room, suddenly exhausted by the long night and emotional stress, Hongjoong spoke one more time.

 

“If you’ll give me a chance,” he started, fiddling with the tassle of a pillow. “I’d like to return your feelings.” He lifted his head to look at Seonghwa. “I’m not entirely sure how deep it goes, but I do like you, Seonghwa.”

 

He thought about it. Thought about whether or not it was worth it to let Hongjoong that deep into his heart, about whether or not he was honest. In the end, it came back to Hongjoong. It always did.

 

“Only if I know you’re doing it for yourself and no one else,” he answered. “You can’t do it because you feel guilty about Mingi or because you feel pity for me. I’ll move past unrequited love, but I won’t move past your lies, Hongjoong.” He sounded more serious than he looked, but he went back and dropped a soft, barely-there kiss to the crown of Hongjoong’s head. “I’ll wait for you like I always have.”

 

* * *

 

The bell above the door tinkled, and a young man enters a shop in a small village near the northeastern village. He looks around in awe at the glass terrariums hanging from the rafters around the shop until he notices a man wearing an apron, who seems to be the owner, standing near the long lines of bookcases against the wall. Jongho offers a sheepish smile and wave when the owner notices him, and he smiles back easily. He sets down the box of books he’d been carrying in hand and dusts his hands together.

 

“Hello, how can I help you?”

 

“Um, I’m looking for some foxroot powder. Do you sell that?” The owner hummed thoughtfully and walked toward the counter.

 

“I know we store it, but I’m not sure if it’s in the front or the back.” He runs a hand through his blond-dyed hair, which looks like it needs to be touched up. The black roots are beginning to show through. “Joongie, do you remember where we keep the foxroot powder?” A second head peeks out from a side room, an exasperated sigh already on his lips.

 

“We have it under the mandrake root powder, Hwa. You put it there.” Hwa purses his lips thoughtfully and then snaps his fingers.

 

“Ah, of course. Sorry, I’ll be right back. We store the more potent ingredients in the side room. Joongie, do you mind covering me?”

 

“Sure, but don’t take too long. I have to get back to the glass.” Hwa grins and plants a quick kiss on Joongie’s cheek as he passes down the hall to a room toward the end, and then Joongie comes to the front counter. “So, how did you end up here?”

 

“I heard some rumors about a Dragon Rider dying around here, and since one of my friend’s lives in this village, I thought I’d ask him if there’s any truth to them,” Jongho answers honestly. Joongie smiles and leans forward.

 

“Oh? Who might your friend be? We know everyone in this town.”

 

“Yeosang!” Jongho says brightly. “We were really close when I still lived here, so we kept in touch!”

 

“Oh, we know Yeosang! You must be Jongho then, right?” Jongho nods excitedly, and Joongie laughs at his enthusiasm. “We heard a few things about you.”

 

“Here’s the foxroot powder,” Hwa calls reappearing with a thick vial in his hand. “How much of it do you need?”

 

“The whole thing,” Jongho says seriously, pulling out a pouch of coins for payment. “It’s a pretty potent spell.”

 

“Ah, good luck with it!” Joongie says as he exchanges the foxroot powder for the coins. “And just between you and me,” he whispers conspiratorially, “I don’t think the Dragon Rider or his dragon are dead.” He winks and leans back, dropping the pouch in one of the pockets of Hwa’s apron. Hwa rolls his eyes and slings his arm across Joongie’s shoulders. Jongho blinks, completely confused by Joongie’s words, and cradles the vial in his hands.

 

“Stop spouting that nonsense, Joongie.” Hwa nuzzles his nose against the top of Joongie’s head. “It doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

 

“We’ll see you later, Jongho! Yeosang invited us to dinner, so you’re probably the reason why. Imagine how surprised he’ll be when he finds out we already met,” Joongie jokes, and Hwa snorts as he moves away, back toward the books he’d been arranging when Jongho came in.

 

“I’ll see you then, I guess!” Jongho waves goodbye as he leaves, but before he’s out the door, he asks one more question.

 

“What are your actual names? I only know you as Hwa and Joongie.” Hwa smiles at Joongie’s back retreating to the side room he’d come from me.

 

“I’m Seonghwa and the dummy in the back is Hongjoong,” he says brightly, eyes sliding back to the front to watch Jongho’s reaction.

 

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong,” Jongho says while nodding. “Easy enough to remember.” He smiles one last time before leaving, and Seonghwa waves him out.

 

When Jongho leaves, Seonghwa sighs and fingers his bracelet, made of scales that ranged from deep night to dark ash. He slips it on and shakes his head. The bond between them thrums with the emotions Seonghwa sends through it and the accompanying reply of ‘I love you too’ from Hongjoong. It leaves a lasting, fond grin on his face as he arranges the front of their shop, calm and happy.

 

This life fit them just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter!](https://twitter.com/timelessidyll)   
>  [my curiouscat!](https://curiouscat.me/timelessidyll)


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